


What You Thought You Wanted

by Drag0nst0rm



Series: All According to Plan [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Strangely enough, Torture, bullet point fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-20 10:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17020863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: Morgoth discovers powerful magic in the Void and manages to send himself back in time. Surely this time he can secure an easy victory.Surely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Silmarillion.

\- Morgoth manages to send himself back to just after his Balrogs have rescued - er, wrecked his vengeance on Ungoliant. This gives him plenty of time to work his plans.

\- He has all the knowledge he needs now to breed greater orcs, winged dragons, the greatest of wolves. What he does not have are the raw materials. Those will take time. He builds his army furiously, and he waits.

\- He knows exactly when Feanor will arrive. He knows exactly where Feanor will arrive. He has an ambush ready and waiting.

\- Feanor doesn’t burn the ships. He doesn’t get a chance to. The orcs get to it first, a fact that annoys Morgoth. The burning at Losgar was divisive the first go around. He would have liked to have kept it. Still, it’s not like Fingolfin’s going to know who threw the torch, and hopefully Feanor’s host will all be dead before it matters.

\- … And they may yet be. They’re just not all dead _yet._

\- He has to call up some of the troops attacking Cirdan, and some of that whole mess replays again. His forces do better than before, however. More of Feanor’s host has fallen, more of Cirdan’s host has fallen, and Feanor does’t press as far as Mithrim. The line of the siege is considerably further back and harder pressed.

\- …  Which means Feanor doesn’t go charging too far ahead and get himself killed. That’s inconvenient, at least from a grudge holding perspective; he’s not sure yet about from a strategic one. How will the Noldor fare with Feanor in charge?

\- Here’s the thing about Feanor: Put him in that situation with Fingolfin, and it would have been exactly as much of a disaster as Morgoth wished. With Cirdan, however, who is not his half-brother, who is grateful for the Noldor’s assistance, and who is full of all sorts of new knowledge to share, Feanor can get along just fine.

\- Morgoth tries sending a messenger for a parley. A grief stricken Maedhros had once accepted it. Feanor laughs in the messenger’s face.

\- What follows is not a quiet siege. It’s a violent arms race, as Morgoth races to breed better monsters and Feanor races to counter them with new and better weapons.

\- One of those encounters finally gives Morgoth what he’s been waiting for: a new plaything. Not just any faceless elf either, he’s been getting plenty of those, but a son of Feanor.

\- Celegorm’s scouting party had pierced too far, and Huan, left behind for the sake of stealth, wasn’t there to defend him. Celegorm spits his defiance at Morgoth, and Morgoth is delighted at the chance to carve it out of him.

\- He soon discovers one of the pitfalls of trying to hold Celegorm. Celegorm can talk to anything, including the rats that had once made Maedhros so miserable. His escape attempts exploit this.

\- Morgoth is not amused.

\- Here’s what Morgoth failed to account for: If Maedhros is captured, Huan is willing to follow Celegorm’s lead. If Celegorm is the one who’s been captured, then Huan’s going after him.

\- So is Feanor, for that matter. 

\- He leaves Maedhros in charge. Curufin wants to come, but Feanor won’t risk the Noldor losing both their chief smiths, and there’s Celebrimbor to think of. Instead, he asks Maglor to come. Maglor’s become a fierce fighter through the siege, and there’s no one better suited to a battle of song if it comes to it.

\- Morgoth and his crown of Silmarils aren’t there when they sneak in. He’s off starting mischief with the Men and spreading rumors for Thingol, cut off from the others by Morgoth’s armies, to hear.

\- Instead, they face Sauron.

\- They are not more guiltless than Finrod, but winning a contest such as this isn’t about being right. Otherwise, Sauron would never have a prayer. It’s about _believing_ you’re right.

\- Feanor believes. With his father behind him, Maglor believes too.

\- Also, Huan is ready to spring at Sauron’s throat in any timeline. 

\- Sauron flees. They get Celegorm out and beat a fast retreat to the safety of their lines.

\- Morgoth is furious, but he bides his time.

\- Feanor and Cirdan manage to push through to Thingol. Thingol is pleased to see Cirdan, but not at all pleased to see the Noldor. He’s heard things about the Noldor he doesn’t like. 

\- Including all about Alqualonde. Or, rather, Alqualonde, but framed to make it seem even worse than it already was. Thingol will not suffer the Noldor to pass into the Girdle, though he offers Cirdan’s people shelter there.

\- Some of Cirdan’s people take it. Most stay to fight it out.

\- Feanor is incensed, but he’s is no position to act against Thingol, so he lets it go. More or less.

\- That’s when Morgoth strikes.

\- Amrod takes out a hunting party. Morgoth learns of them and sends orcs to harass and harry them right up to the Girdle’s border.

\- The Girdle that will not let them in. Not even as they are slowly cut down.

\- Amrod is the last one standing, save for one brave guard, and they are dragged off in chains to Sauron.

\- “Do you really think my father will not come for us?” Amrod spits.

\- Sauron was made to suffer for his last failure. He does not intend to fail again.

\- He smiles. “Do you really think he’ll get the chance?”

\- He burns Amrod alive and gives what remains of him to the screaming guard. “Take this to the Spirit of Fire,” he says, still smiling, “and tell him I will do worse to the next.”

\- The attack does secure Feanor’s everlasting hatred of Thingol and spurs him on to act rashly. Unfortunately for Morgoth, it’s also driving him to cut through the orcs like grain.

\- But Morgoth can’t devote all his attention to that. The moon has risen. Fingolfin is coming soon.

\- Morgoth prepares his ambush. He will destroy Fingolfin’s exhausted forces before they know what’s hit them and then turn his full attention to the rest of the pesky Noldor. These long years of war have worn them down. Victory must surely be all but in his grasp.

\- It doesn’t quite work out that way.


	2. Chapter 2

\- Morgoth is right about Fingolfin’s forces being exhausted. With his forces as prepared as he can get them for the sunlight and with no friendly forces in the immediate area for Fingolfin to meet up with, Morgoth feels fully prepared as he launches a night attack against Fingolfin’s forces.

\- It goes well. Very well. True, some of Manwe’s pesky eagles show up and rescue a few of the women and children, but he’s really quite pleased. They’re cutting down so many of the Noldor.

\- Until suddenly, they’re not.

\- It makes no sense. They’ve got them surrounded, Fingolfin’s forces are now even more exhausted and wounded to boot, and they’ve caught no second wind that’s propelling them to victory. They’re just … refusing to die.

\- For the first time since this venture started, Morgoth feels unease.

\- Feanor’s continued survival is one thing. That’s an unforeseen consequence that he’s working to correct.

\- Elves refusing to die without direct Valar intervention to explain it is a different matter.

\- He goes out to the battlefield himself.

\- “Some, we’re still managing to kill,” Sauron tells him in an attempt to put a positive spin on things. “Unfortunately, others … “ He gestures toward a wounded elf they’ve managed to capture. Two orcs drag her forward. Sauron grabs a spear up from the ground and makes to shove it through her chest.

\- The spearhead falls to the ground before it reaches her. The wood thunks harmlessly into her chest.

\- “That happens every time, my lord,” Sauron says, grimacing. A pile of mangled weapons beside him supports this claim. The elleth is staring at it with terror mixed with hope.

\- Terror wins when Morgoth approaches to try himself.

\- He reaches out and tries to crush her.

\- He tries.

\- Her ribs bruise and crack, but she will not die.

\- He flings her to the ground to hide his mounting fear.

\- His brethren, even if they could have done this, would not have. Not while the Noldor were under their curse. But Eru -

\- Eru permitted - No. Not permitted, no one _permits_ Morgoth anything. Eru did not _prevent_ Morgoth from turning back the clock. Eru has not prevented Morgoth from changing things.

\- Morgoth does not know why Eru is preventing this, but if Eru Iluvatar has gotten involved, then his plans have just become imposs- precarious.

\- He does not recognize this elleth. He does not remember her doing anything particularly remarkable last time. There is no sense of doom upon her other than what Mandos laid. 

\- Why is she important? Why does she matter to Eru?

\- Why can’t she die?

\- He cannot afford to show uncertainty, so he tells his forces to aim to wound and capture. This venture is more successful. When it is done, he patrols the lines of captives and tries to kill each in turn. Some, he manages. These, he assumes, are ones not actually under Eru’s protection and instead managed to survive by virtue of being in the middle of a huddle of people who were or by dint of their own skill.

\- Of the house of Finwe, he finds Fingolfin, Fingon, and Orodreth still alive. The others are either dead or were carried off by the eagles.

\- “The High King of the Noldor,” he says as he surveys Fingolfin. “At long last.”

\- “Your eyes have gone as weak as your mind,” Fingolfin spits. “You have not yet my father’s heir before you.”

\- _No, but you wish that you were,_ Morgoth thinks, but that is neither here nor there. Instead, he smiles. “No? But with Feanor’s line extinguished, does it not fall to you?”

\- This is a lie, of course. Feanor and six of his sons - and, for that matter, his grandson - continue to plague Morgoth. But the lie has a pleasing effect. 

\- “You lie,” Fingon snarls, struggling against his bonds.

\- “Your escaped kin will be the first free Noldor to roam the land in years,” he says smoothly. “I look forward to hunting them down.”

\- Orodreth has gone pale with despair. Fingolfin’s rage is so great that he actually manages to snap his bonds and charge.

\- It is futile, of course, although Morgoth is somewhat … annoyed … that even under these circumstances Fingolfin manages to make him bleed. But he catches the prince up soon enough, and he laughs as he begins to squeeze.

\- If anyone is under Eru’s protection, it is Fingolfin, the Noldor King who slew no kin and once gave Morgoth seven wounds. He is not at all careful.

\- And Fingolfin - dies.

\- It is the first time that Morgoth can remember that he has looked on a kill with horror. He had intended to toy with Fingolfin for far longer, but that disappointment is nothing next to the terrifying realization that he has no idea what is going on.

\- He drops the crumpled corpse to the ground, and Fingon goes mad. “Ada! Ada, no!”

\- Morgoth is almost gentle as he picks the two struggling princes up. He dares not test them until his own will regarding their continued existence is impressed.

\- _All that you have done is part of my design._

\- This cannot be part of Eru’s plan. It cannot be.

\- Yet there is most definitely another will at work here, and much though he might try to deny it, he still knows the signs of that fire all too well.

\- Eru has planned something, and Morgoth has never been good at grasping his creator’s plans.


	3. Chapter 3

\- Aredhel, Idril, and Galadriel are all among those rescued by the eagles. Idril is still crying for her father. Galadriel had to be literally snatched from the fight.

\- Aredhel is thinking about the spear that had been hurtling toward her before being pushed aside by a sudden gust of wind. And the spear that had nearly caught Idril before dropping to the ground. And the blade that had twisted itself out of its owner’s hand before it could hit Galadriel.

\- Aredhel has no idea what it means, but she can’t help thinking it means _something._

\- They and the others that were rescued are left with Feanor’s forces. This is … somewhat awkward for all concerned, but since it is not actually Feanor’s fault the ships were burned and they’re in desperate need of aid, everyone politely ignores that Feanor took off without them in the first place.

\- Galadriel holds her tongue more than she ignores it, but it’s the same thing, at the moment.

\- Aredhel takes charge of Idril as her closest living kin. She also seeks out Celegorm. He’s … changed, by all that’s happened, but then, so is she. Huan is more protective of his elf than ever, but he lets Aredhel pass after a single warning growl. Celegorm is happy to see her, and for the first time since she set out on the Ice, Aredhel feels safe, here behind her uncle’s elaborate defenses and battle hardened army, with a Maia between her and the door.

\- “We’ll be alright,” she whispers to Idril, and for the moment, she believes it.

\- Feanor, meanwhile, isn’t sure quite what he feels about the fact that his half-brother has actually shown up and is facing Morgoth - or was, last any of those rescued saw him. Feanor has some rather biting thoughts about that rescue, the hypocrisy of the Valar, and their apparent unwillingness to just finish the job, but he has more sense than to voice them.

\- Maedhros wants to make a push to rescue their newly arrived people. Feanor is not actually opposed to being the one to swoop in and rescue his half-brother, for reasons that have everything to do with gloating and nothing to do with brotherly concern. At all. Of course not.

\- (Feanor thinks of what befell his father, and for just a moment, he sees his brother as he was when he was a child, sweet and awed by whatever Feanor did, and he sees that child crushed and bloodied, and he thinks _no._ )

\- (He doesn’t know that it’s already too late.)

\- Caranthir points out the logistics though, and the impossibility is soon made plain. There is nothing they can do for Fingolfin and his forces. They are too deep in enemy lines for anything but air travel to prevail, and the eagles have already left.

\- Feanor doesn’t like the word impossible. He spends the next several days trying to figure out air travel, and when that doesn’t work, rather spitefully turns his attention to capturing sunlight to unleash upon any of Morgoth’s creatures who try to attack at night. This is a great success.

\- Morgoth, meanwhile, lays a trap for Maedhros. Fingon, the Vala remembers, had once done something rather extraordinary to save Maedhros. Neither of them knows that now, of course, but he can’t help wondering if the friendship flows two ways. It would be an interesting experiment.

\- So when he has taken out as much of his old frustration with the once king of the Noldor as he thinks the elf’s mind can withstand, he sends him with Sauron far closer to the front of their lines and has him strung up where the keen eyes of Maedhros can see.

\- Maedhros knows it must be a trap, but he left Fingon once. He will not do so again.

\- He goes after him.

\- Fingon is closely guarded. Maedhros gets farther than Sauron had ever intended to allow, Maedhros manages to cut Fingon down … but Maedhros cannot fight his way back out with his injured cousin in tow.

\- Manwe intervenes far enough to send an eagle. Maedhros gives Fingon over to its care and fights to cover their retreat.

\- The eagle brings Fingon’s tortured body safely to Feanor’s camp. The healers assure all who ask that he will live.

\- Maedhros, who let himself be left behind, does not.

\- Feanor has now lost two sons. His fury is uncalmable. He rides out against Morgoth, not in despair, but in rage.

\- He sees the mutilated bodies of his brother and his son, and he charges alone on Morgoth’s very gates, shouting a challenge.

\- Apparently, this moment is unavoidable, Morgoth thinks sourly, and he goes out to meet him.

\- Seven wounds. The elf-king crushed. The body claimed.

\- History repeats, and Morgoth feels the Silmarils burn even more viciously, feels his wounds close only reluctantly, and the unease settles even deeper into his stomach.

\- It is nothing, surely. And he has killed Feanor at last. The eagles remain bothersome, but it is no matter. He shall have winged dragons again soon enough.

\- Fingon awakes to find Maglor High King of the Noldor and the only one of Feanor’s surviving sons who does not hate him. He’s not sure if that’s because Maglor’s too overwhelmingly busy to hate anyone, if it’s because he needs Fingon’s help, or if it’s because he wants to honor his brother’s sacrifice. 

\- Or possibly because he’s genuinely fond of his cousin, but that possibility doesn’t occur to him until later.

\- His sister, niece, and female cousin are far more positively disposed towards him and help him through his recovery as Maglor is mostly too busy to do. Once he can walk again, he forces his way to Maglor’s tent and demands a way to make himself useful.

\- “You need time to heal,” Maglor says, but he already looks tempted.

\- “I need to not think,” Fingon says, his voice tight to constrain his grief, and Maglor gives in.

\- Maglor really, truly, deeply does not want to be king. Unfortunately, nobody asked him his opinion of the matter. Curufin and Celebrimbor have taken up his father’s work with the weapons, Caranthir provides aid with the logistics, and Celegorm provides a steady stream of information, meat, and dead orcs, although the last he thankfully doesn’t actually bring back to camp. Amras mostly just provides dead orcs and a lot of sleepless nights for his remaining brothers.

\- And Maglor has to manage all this, thankfully now with Fingon’s help. Aredhel helps with Celegorm’s scouts. Galadriel manages to use her kinship to get Thingol to allow her into Doriath to begin talks. Maglor has little hope of this working, but he wishes her well.

\- Morgoth turns his attention to the tribes of Men making their way west. Their leaders are the beginning of lines that will give him no end of trouble. Better to cut them off now, so that he can better lead their people to his side.

\- That’s when he discovers that it’s not just to elves that this strange protection has been given.

\- He has his agents try five times to kill the Man from whom someday will come Beor, Barahir, and Beren. His agents fail.

\- Right up until the chief’s wife becomes pregnant for a second time. And then, at last, their attack succeeds.

\- The pieces begin to fall into place.

\- He has been allowed - He has not been prevented from killing as he would. He is allowed to work his will freely as best he can. What he will not be permitted is to wipe out existence. He may crush other wills once they spark to life, but they must be permitted their fight, futile as it may be.

\- This … complicates things.

\- Still. He can win. He’s sure of it. Where he cannot kill, he’ll corrupt; where he cannot corrupt, he’ll imprison. It can work.

\- Unfortunately, the Secondborn are a little more obstinate than he’d remembered.


	4. Chapter 4

\- One problem with dealing with the Secondborn is time. Their short lifespans preclude truly longterm schemes, and they multiply far more quickly than the elves.

\- Or the dwarves, for that matter. He’ll need to make plans to deal with them sooner or later …

\- The other main problem with the Secondborn is that they, like the elves, eventually figure out that some of their number are functionally unkillable, at least for certain spans of their lives. They have little more than superstition to figure out why, but the Secondborn don’t always care much about why when something so demonstrably works. They discover this more quickly than the elves, possibly because so many more things can kill a Man.

\- Men who have figured out they can’t die no matter what stupid stunts they pull are … annoying … to say the least.

\- They’re also infuriatingly independent and contrary. No matter what sweet lies he spins, there are always some who oppose him.

\- Some, like last time, he ensnares with his promises. Some he does manage to kill. Men do not, after all, have to live their full span of lives; if, in the first span of time, they had no children of their own, they must merely be conceived before he can send their bright souls on to their Gift. (On the flip side of that coin, however, there’s a few humans he’s … pretty sure … didn’t live this long the first time around. He could be wrong, of course. He might simply have never heard of them before or forgotten. He’s just pretty sure he would have remembered people this stunningly annoying.) Other men he manages to capture and enslave. Among their numbers he is proud to count the line of Balan.

\- He calls the man Beor and laughs to see his eyes flash at the name he once bore with pride.

\- Unfortunately, the land is broad, and some manage to escape him. Like the group that will someday call themselves the Haladin. Assuming, of course, that he doesn’t kill Haleth before they take up the name. She never had children, did she? There are possibilities there …

\- But surely the Haladin hardly matter. Not when he controls the line that will someday spawn that lackhand Beren.

\- He’s rather curious about that actually. He knows for a fact that Beren had a son with Luthien. How will that work if Beren spends his whole life as a thrall in Angband?

\- Perhaps he can capture Luthien?

\- If he doesn’t, he’s rather afraid that this means Beren will manage to find some way to escape.

\- He doesn’t worry about this too much yet, though. He still has time.

\- He ought to be worrying about it, though. Because while Men will continue to bear children despite truly appalling conditions, elves will not. Some elves refuse to bear children even in wartime. All elves refuse to bear children while they’re actively being held captive.

\- Which means if their children are to be born, they’re going to have to escape.

\- In Angband, the Secondborn meet the Eldar and begin plotting mischief that Morgoth doesn’t yet realize he needs to be watching for. Meanwhile, their freer brethren are also meeting up.

\- “Father said - “ Curufin begins stubbornly.

\- “Father loved gaining new knowledge of all kinds,” Maglor says smoothly. “I’m sure he’d have been delighted by the chance to actually meet them. Besides, you saw their delegation earlier. Do you truly think they can supplant us?”

\- What Maglor is thinking but is smart enough not to say is, They can hold a sword, and they don’t look actively evil. They’re in.

\- Thingol takes a more suspicious view of things, but Maglor doesn’t care what Thingol thinks. Thingol can think what he likes, shut up in his Girdle. Maglor needs more soldiers. Now. He tries to phrase it up more politely to send to Galadriel, though.

\- The Edain, for their part, are delighted to have allies, particularly allies with excellent weapons and a means of capturing the sun to fight off their enemies throughout the night.

\- It’s around that time that Aredhel goes riding out and doesn’t come back. Celegorm and Fingon both search for her frantically, but nothing comes of it. Everyone assumes she’s been captured by the enemy.

\- She shows up a few years later with a small child. She won’t say anything about his father. The general assumption is that either something terrible happened to him or that he was the terrible thing. No one is sure which. Aredhel doesn’t clarify the matter; she’s slowly dying of an orc wound she sustained on the trip, and Lomion is too much a child to shed much light on the matter.

\- It’s just Lomion, apparently. He says he doesn’t have a father name, and no one’s really sure what to make of that.

\- Aredhel dies. Fingon takes care of Lomion as his closest living relative. Celegorm helps as he can, but if he wasn’t the same after his capture, this devastates him further.

\- Meanwhile, in Angband, Orodreth finds himself befriended by one of those strange Secondborn who calls himself Barahir. His people are planning a breakout, and they need elvish assistance.

\- It is the first and only mass breakout in Angband’s history, and it’s helped along considerably by a little - Well, call it Doom. They get out of the immediate fortress at least, and then it’s just a long, nightmarish slog through enemy territory.

\- The group is forced to split up sometimes and can’t always join back up. There are deaths amongst those who are not protected.

\- By the time they reach the edge of enemy territory, it is Beren that’s leading this ragtag group, and a large force of enraged orcs is behind them.

\- But Beren leads them through the spiders, and, by the force of his Doom, right through the Girdle.

\- Thingol is Not Pleased.

\- Luthien, however, is rather impressed. She’s been hearing all about the brave fight against Morgoth from Galadriel, and she desperately wants to help these people, whatever her father thinks.

\- He decides to let the elves stay, although he’s not happy about it. The Men, he insists, must move on.

\- Some of the elves decide to stay with the Men in protest. Others are in far too battered a condition to do so.

\- Beren is prepared to lead the Men grimly on.

\- Luthien, without her father’s blessing - and, alright, without his knowledge - gathers what aid for them she can and offers to go with them to the border of the Girdle and perhaps further. All the way to Maglor’s camp, even. Another elvish face would surely ease their way, and her power would be useful to them.

\- Beren’s in no position to turn aid down. He agrees.

\- When Morgoth’s spies bring him word of the princess Luthien being glimpsed outside the Girdle in the company of mortals, enraged suddenly seems like far too small a word.

\- Still, just let her try her tricks again. Let her try.


	5. Chapter 5

\- He gives Sauron his orders and puts extra patrols on the border. He does everything he can to make himself ready. 

\- And Luthien … doesn’t come.

\- This only makes him more paranoid. When is she coming? What tactic will she try?

\- If she gets the Silmaril, and that Silmaril makes its way to the Valar, it’s all over. He is not letting her get it.

\- Luthien does not arrive to contest this.

\- Morgoth is confused, to say the least.

\- In the first timeline, Luthien only went after it because Beren went after it. He only went after it because Thingol demanded it.

\- Thingol hasn’t demanded it here. He’s skipped straight to sending Beleg and Mablung out to to try and bring his daughter back.

\- His daughter, who has been busy falling in love with a rugged mortal who is equally as enchanted with her.

\- Mablung and Beleg finally catch up to them just as they’ve reached the Feanorians’ main fortress. They ask her to return with them. When she says she’s staying here with Beren, they point out that Beren’s people don’t even have permission to stay here yet.

\- This is the point where everyone looks at Maglor.

\- Maglor does some very quick mental math. On the one hand, he has Thingol, who he’s pretty much given up on as a potential ally. On the other hand, he has a large group of Edain with inside information about Angband and a half-Maia who evidently has no problem with dangerous situations.

\- “We are, of course, very happy to welcome more of the Secondborn and look forward to discussing the particulars, and we would not dream of turning the daughter of King Thingol away. You are all very welcome for as long as you wish to stay.”

\- Mablung and Beleg kind of wonder if that includes them, because they’re really not looking forward to taking that news back.

\- Maglor does have some initial concern that Cirdan might not approve, but by this point, Cirdan’s more closely allied with the Noldor than his nominal king.

\- So Luthien, Beren, and co. join the Noldor forces, and Orodreth, as one of the rescued elves, finally reunites with what remains of his family.

\- Maglor thinks this is a prime time to plan a big push against Morgoth.

\- The Noldor are already united, and Cirdan is with them. Thingol is definitely against them. This just leaves the Secondborn and the dwarves.

\- Some among the dwarves have the same protection that is seen among Men and elves, although in them it manifests differently. Instead of the weapons not reaching them, they strike and simply fail to kill them, dwarfish resilience rising to unbelievable heights.

\- Since even without this, dwarves have a roughly even chance of surviving an axe blow to the skull, this creates an … impressive … effect.

\- They don’t manage to bring all the dwarves in, but they bring in many. Many of the Men also join.

\- Including the houses of Bor and Ulfang.

\- Here’s the thing: Morgoth has been claiming credit for men’s inability to be slain. This does create initial attraction to his side by some men, but it also creates a problem because, well. The men can see that prisoners _very obviously_ not in Morgoth’s favor are nonetheless unkillable. They figure out that something else must be causing this, and it drives men to search for truth elsewhere.

\- Ulfang stays true, in other words.

\- While all this is in the works, Luthien and Beren marry and have Dior. Thingol, unexpectedly, begins to soften. Now both his grandson and his daughter are out there and refusing to come back to safety in the Girdle. He has to do something.

\- Thingol marches with his men. Melian joins them.

\- It’s an impressive army, to say the least.

\- Unfortunately, Morgoth’s finally gotten his winged dragons figured out again. This, he thinks, is the perfect opportunity to unleash them.

\- And the battle begins.

\- With two and a half Maiar on one side, Sauron is not enough on his own. Morgoth is forced to take to the field.

\- And under the combined assault of Melian, Luthien, Huan, and the entire remaining House of Finwe, he … falters. 

\- Just for a moment. Not for long. It’s a mere stumble, really.

\- But it’s a stumble that ends with his iron crown falling from his head.

\- The remaining sons of Feanor jump forward to claim it.

\- Afterwards, some say that if they hadn’t gone for it - if they had just kept up the attack - maybe they could have won. Maybe.

\- Others point out that Morgoth is a Vala, and that honestly, they were probably doomed from the start.

\- Morgoth doesn’t fall, but neither does he win. Both sides are eventually forced to retreat, forces utterly exhausted.

\- Losses on the Noldor side include Celegorm, who after his capture, his brothers’ deaths, his father’s death, and Aredhel’s death never fully recovered, and the last half of Ambarussa. They lose Orodreth to the retreat. Losses also include Thingol, which means that Melian leaves them all to their fates.

\- Luthien takes charge of her father’s surviving people as they retreat. Huan latches on to Curufin, Celegorm’s favorite brother.

\- “I got them killed,” Maglor says into his hands when he is safely alone, or close enough.

\- “Morgoth got them killed,” Fingon tells him firmly. “And you fulfilled your Oath, which means the Everlasting Darkness isn’t hanging over your House anymore. That’s something.”

\- The Oath is fulfilled. They have all three Silmarils, after all. It’s amazing how liberating that feels. Father would be proud.

\- Morgoth’s main losses are said Silmarils. Granted, he also lost plenty of his forces, but those can be built back up. The Silmarils are gone, and boats could be launching for Aman any minute.

\- Except … they’re not. The Noldor, he realizes, are not yet that desperate. 

\- The moment he can gather enough strength, he sends dragons against the Noldor’s fortresses, hoping to tear them to the ground and retrieve those gems.

\- Unfortunately for Morgoth, Curufin and Celebrimbor have been spending their time since the battle burying grief in work. Specifically, working at creating excessively effective ballista and other armaments to take down winged dragons.

\- The attack fails. At this point, there’s no language Morgoth knows with words that can adequately express just how much he hates the Noldor.

\- Sauron has some interesting thoughts about that, although of all the problems he needs fixed, he really wishes that hadn’t been the one Sauron focused on.


	6. Chapter 6

\- The war marches on. Slowly but surely the elves are pushed back until the free forces in Beleriand consist of a handful of dwarven fortress mountains - including Nogrod - and the elvish and Secondborn stronghold on the Isle of Balar where the only avenue of attack is by air, at least until Morgoth figures something aquatic out. At this point, the House of Finwe consists of:

\- Maglor, who for the first time thinks it’s probably a good thing a bard is king, because if it wasn’t for the power of his voice, he’s pretty sure morale would be in a far more desperate state than it is.

\- Caranthir, who has to figure out a way to get food for all of these people and enough metal for their smiths. Resources are a constant issue. Gardens get planted on interesting places, like roofs, fishing becomes a staple, and he’s very, very glad that foods like lembas are so effective at staving off hunger. Metal is recycled over and over, and they’re far past any scruples at taking weapons from the enemy dead. Any curses on the metal can be undone. Iron is iron.

\- Curufin, who is so desperately wrapped up in figuring out how to best Morgoth’s latest monstrosity that he frequently has to be dragged by Huan to get food. 

\- Celebrimbor, who does his best to assist Huan, and who is helping his father with weaponry while trying to figure out a way to magnify elvish power; rings, perhaps? 

\- Fingon, who has to play peacemaker between all the remnants of his House, and who refuses to admit to anyone just how badly his old injuries still ache or how haunted his dreams are. 

\- Lomion, who is bitter about Idril choosing Tuor and is still grieving her death, but is nonetheless a smith on par with Curufin and Celebrimbor. 

\- Galadriel, who is adept at capturing sunlight to use to ward off all those of the Enemy’s creatures who are burned by it and to help some of the plants grow. 

\- Finduilas, who was briefly captured by a band of orcs, but who surely didn’t have time to be tainted by the Shadow, not when Fingon is fine. 

\- Earendil, who is still grieving both his parents, but at least still has his wife and their two sons - and, for that matter, his one surviving brother-in-law, Elured. 

\- After the next attack, the bits about Elwing, Elured, and Finduilas are all no longer true. Earendil is left to raise his children alone. 

\- The smog Morgoth has blanketed his own realm with spreads. The sun’s light reaches them less and less frequently. As the darkness encroaches, the attacks grow bolder and the crops start to die. 

\- Curufin long ago broke three knives prying the Silmarils from the iron crown. Now he crafts a new holder for them and anchors it firmly to the roof of one of the most well defended buildings in the city. 

\- The light from the three Silmarils feeds off itself and grows brighter. The mirrors he’s surrounded them with help. The glory is almost impossible to look directly at. It lights the city, burns enemy troops, and makes the crops grow like never before. 

\- The Noldor are desperate. The light of the Silmarils makes them stronger, but it is too much for their Secondborn allies. The light does not burn them, but it uses them up, shortening their lives and causing some of their minds to drift. They can cover up their skin, avoid looking directly at it, and stay under the covered walkways that are hastily built, but it’s not enough. Not when the light they see is so painfully bright. Not when the food they eat bursts with it. Not when it’s everywhere.  

\- And it does help the elves. All of them. Absolutely none of them feel a faint burn.  

\- Or at least, none of them will admit to it. 

\- They are cut off from potential allies, running out of resources, and are being cut with the same weapon that’s their last hope. They’re desperate.

\- Morgoth is desperate. All those who still oppose him have retreated into fortresses that he can’t crack no matter how many forces he pours at them.

\- He should be able to take Nogrod! The _elves_ once took Nogrod! 

\- Apparently, no one told the dwarves there that. 

\- And as long as those Silmarils remain out of his hands, the elves could at any moment decide to get Aman involved. Unfortunately, all efforts at retrieving them have failed. Morgoth is desperate. 

\- It’s Voronwe who first suggests sailing to Aman. Curufin and Lomion are both against it, and Caranthir is wary of using up the resources, but Maglor allows it. They have to try. 

\- All of the first attempts fail. Then Earendil suggests taking a Silmaril. 

\- This causes more of an uproar than Maglor had ever wanted to live through again. It will weaken the fortresses’s defenses. It’s an immense risk. 

\- It’s a risk they ultimately have to take. 

\- Earendil isn’t enthused about being one of the ones to go, but he’s one of the best mariners they have, and his father was favored by Ulmo. Everyone agrees he’s got the best chance. So with great reluctance, he leaves, after putting his children under the care of Glorfindel. 

\- This works quite well, until Glorfindel does the one thing no one had expected the great warrior to do: He dies. 

\- Killing an immense dragon, admittedly, but he still dies. 

\- (That’s another thing they’ve been eating. Dead dragon.) 

\- Lomion and Fingon are their two closest living relatives. Aside from Earendil, of course, who everyone is very sure is still alive and is absolutely coming back. Definitely.  

\- Lomion and Fingon therefore split the duties of looking after them as best they can, though after the Incident, Fingon tries not to leave them alone with their cousin very much. 

\- (The Incident involved Lomion telling the two six year olds that if they get the choice to choose their fate, they should choose the path of Men, because Morgoth probably wouldn’t be able to follow them out of the circles of the world. The Incident would not have deserved the capital letter if Fingon hadn’t happened across them and demanded to know why Lomion thought that was something they even needed to consider. Lomion’s rather graphic response was disturbing. Accurate, but disturbing.) 

\- Maglor is far too busy to have much to do with them, at least up until he catches them listening outside the keyhole to his room. This was not because he’d been having an interesting conversation in there, but because he’d been practicing snatches of music in the hopes of composing something to keep morale up, and they’d wanted to hear more. 

\- Maglor has next to no free time, but he carves out what he can to help them train their own voices. 

\- (The Maia blood in their veins holds strong. Their voices have power that may someday hold the walls together. Maglor knows this and considers it, but he also considers the sheer beauty of their voices, and the way they grin when he praises them, and the bright sparks of life they bring to everyone they pass near. It would be impossible, he thinks, not to grow to love them, no matter how dangerous this war has proven that loving anyone is.) 

\- They don’t know it, but help is coming. 

\- And Finarfin doesn’t know it, but no matter what Earendil tells him, Finarfin will still not be prepared for what he finds when he arrives. 


	7. Chapter 7

\- Even through the smog, they see the star and know it for what it is. Feelings on this are mixed. On the one hand, at least they know Earendil made it to Aman, whatever might have happened afterward. On the other hand, no one really knows the answer to Caranthir’s question of, “Do you think it can still hurt the Secondborn from that distance?” At the moment, it hardly matters, but if they ever get through this war, it will.

\- Additionally, as Curufin points out, they don’t, actually, know that Earendil made it. For all they know, Osse sunk the boat and then Ulmo brought the Silmaril to Manwe. Maglor’s just glad that his brother retains enough sense not to mention this possibility in front of the twins.

\- Speaking of the twins, no one’s quite sure how the Silmaril affects them. All three together had bothered Earendil, but one had been fine. It had bothered Elwing and her brother less. It’s not openly hurting them, but neither Maglor nor Fingon is eager to take the risk of long term effects, so they insist on the twins staying heavily covered up when they go outside.

\- Which is why when Finarfin’s ships cut through the fog, he sees two small figures with barely an inch of skin showing between them scrambling around on the beach.

\- Or, well, that’s part of the reason.

\- The rest of the reason has to do with the dragons swooping down on the city and the ballistas firing bolt after bolt to bring them down. The bolts cut deep into their scales until blood rains down on the city, and already one dragon is lying dead on the shore, but the prodigious speed at which the ballistas fire means that ammunition is run through quickly, especially with their limited supplies, which means someone has to sneak through one of the small doors in the wall to retrieve the bolts that have fallen to the shore below.

\- This is not supposed to be the twins’ job. It is, in fact, quite emphatically not their job. But the people whose job it had been had become quite suddenly terminally unavailable, so they had run out to do what needed doing before anyone could stop them.

\- Someone at the watchtowers finally sees the ships and starts frantically tolling the bell.

\- The boys on the beach turn around. For that matter, so do the dragons.

\- The ships are armed and ready. At Finarfin’s call, the weapons fire.

\- The three remaining dragons are small, and they’ve already taken losses. Their latest injuries convince them to retreat. Finarfin is grateful for this, seeing as he’s currently on a wooden ship.

\- He doesn’t want to panic everyone by having his whole army unload right here and now, so he and a small party approach the shore in a rowboat. The two figures in their odd clothing look back to the city as if considering retreat, but they stand their ground. Apparently, shooting at the dragons has given them a little bit of credit.

\- Eonwe is still on the ship. Finarfin isn’t sure why. Frankly, he doesn’t feel comfortable asking for explanations. So Finarfin is the one to stride forward and introduce himself despite his guards’ feelings on the matter.

\- “You’re great-uncle Finarfin?” one of the boys says a bit incredulously. Finarfin blinks.

\- The other one steps on his foot and gives their own introduction. 

\- They’re Earendil’s sons, as it turns out, and that explains the title at least. Technically, he thinks he’s their great-great-great uncle, but that’s far too much of a mouthful to be dealing with.

\- “Is Father with you?” Elrond asks hopefully, and Finarfin really hadn’t been expecting to have to explain this so quickly.

\- “The Valar would not permit him to return,” he tells them softly. “But when the war is won, you’ll be able to join him.”

\- He’s pretty sure the twins shoot each other a look, although honestly it’s hard to tell.

\- “I suppose we should bring you to the king, then,” Elrond says at last, and they lead the way back into the city, still pulling their cart of weapons.

\- Finarfin builds up the nerve to ask about their strange garments. “Is it to protect from the foul air?” he asks. The stench of burning flesh is already strong.

\- “From the light,” Elros says. “It burns up the Secondborn even with covering, but at least this way it’s slower. No one’s sure if we count, so they try to make us play it safe.”

\- Earendil had mentioned something like that, he recalls. 

\- Earendil had mentioned a lot of things. It’s very different too see them in person.

\- Elros seems to take a certain delight in trying to shock him with various pieces of news as they’re led deeper into the city. Elrond tries to put a kinder spin on things, particularly when bringing him up to date on the family. 

\- “ … And Gil-Galad’s finally healed, so hopefully he followed the healers’ instructions and didn’t throw himself right into the thick of things just now,” he concludes.

\- Earendil had mentioned him, but it hadn’t been entirely clear - “Another great-nephew?” he asks. The parentage mentioned had been vague at best.

\- (Morgoth had a similar complaint when reports of Gil-Galad began to surface once more. The first time around, he had hardly cared, but now it meant someone might be newly vulnerable. He’d done his best to sort through the rumors. Unfortunately, this time he was fairly certain the Noldor were being deliberately vague about it in order to cause exactly that problem. There were a lot of gleefully improbable rumors, and even torture produced a wide variety of tales. They couldn’t all be true unless the whole remaining House of Finwe had produced children and decided to name every last one of them Gil-Galad. For all the Noldor’s vaunted skill in naming things, Morgoth wouldn’t put it past them.)

\- Elrond doesn’t answer the question, because they’ve reached the top of the most well defended tower in the city, and he’s getting the guards to let them pass. He’s clearly well known to the soldiers there because they clear a path quickly to the center where Fingon’s cleaning blood off his sword, Curufin’s examining how his latest creation held up through the battle, and Maglor’s listening to reports of what happened while gulping down water to ease a throat strained from constant song.

\- Fingon notices them first. “Boys! What are you doing here? You know you’re not supposed to get too close to the Silm- “ He freezes. “Hello, uncle.”

\- Finarfin can barely tear his eyes off him. “Fingon,” he greets, his voice choked. 

\- It’s been so long since he’s seen even this little remnant of his family.

\- The one he’s most eager to see is Galadriel, and he clings to her for a long time when she arrives at a stately walk that doesn’t quite disguise the run she must been engaging in just moments before. Eventually, he forces himself to, so that they can get down to the actual business of discussing their plan.

\- “Technically, we now have two High Kings,” Gil-Galad points out soon into the meeting, cutting to the point the others had been dancing around. “How do we handle that?”

\- “We each have our own forces to lead,” Finarfin says. “I see no reason for that to change, though I will, of course, yield to your greater experience, Maglor.”

\- Maglor nods agreeably and does, he thinks, a remarkable job of concealing his desperate desire to just throw the crown at Finarfin and run.

\- This was _never supposed to be his job_. It’s all very nice and sensible to point out he has more experience here, and he knows it’s what his father would want, so he’ll do it, he will, just like he has been, but this was never supposed to be his job, it was supposed to be Grandfather’s, or Father’s, or even Maedhros’s. Being fourth in line for the throne was never supposed to _mean_ anything, not in a race of immortals, and even all these years later, Maglor is still not over the fact that eventually he had lost enough that it had.

\- Elrond and Elros are at the meeting but mostly quiet once they are through being lectured over taking a more direct part in the battle than they were supposed to. They listen intently for any more news of their father, and now that their faces are revealed in the safety of the windowless room, the look in their eyes at every scrap Finarfin can give them breaks his heart.

\- Morgoth learns what’s happened quickly enough. He mounts a furious offensive, but he already knows how this is going to end.

\- He’s done it once before.

\- The war drags on and on and manages to break the world a little more thoroughly than before, but it does end. Bit by bit, they manage to push Morgoth back, and as they break the sieges around the dwarfish mountains, their numbers swell.

\- Huan falls fighting the greatest wolf the world has ever seen. Curufin dies facing a Balrog. Lomion, to many people’s surprise, dies saving Elros.

\- Sauron still escapes.

\- The war doesn’t end with a quarrel over a Silmaril. It ends with victory and then a meeting in a tent with the remaining House of Finwe in Middle Earth: Maglor, Caranthir, Celebrimbor, Fingon, Gil-Galad, Galadriel, Elrond, Elros, and Finarfin.

\- Well, the House of Finwe plus Eonwe.

\- What it comes down to is this: Any elf who wants to can sail.

\- Except the leaders of the rebellion. Which is everyone in the tent except for Finarfin, the twins, and Gil-Galad.

\- “Celebrimbor was hardly a leader in anything,” Maglor protests. “He was barely of age when we left.”

\- Eonwe is unmoved. Maglor looks entirely prepared to fight him on this, but Celebrimbor shakes his head. “I want to stay in any case. We can’t give up on Middle Earth now, not when we’ve finally been given a chance to build.”

\- Everyone looks next to the twins.

\- And this … this is a hard decision for them. They want to see their father again. Badly. But Elrond’s foresight says they’re still needed here, and it feels wrong to go when most of their family can’t.

\- “I’m staying,” Elrond says.

\- “I can’t go, actually,” Elros says.

\- Everyone turns and looks at him. “You weren’t even born when the rebellion happened,” Caranthir points out.

\- “Yes, but I’ve decided to be a Man.”

\- Elrond already knows this, but it’s news to everyone else, and it causes a bit of an uproar. When it finally calms down, Finarfin says, “I, unfortunately, will have to eventually return.” Tirion is waiting. The only appealing part of returning will be seeing Earwen again.

\- “Eventually?” Eonwe asks, looking startled for the first time.

\- “Anaire has things well under control, I’m sure. I have to spend at least a few more years with our daughter. Especially since she’s about to get married.”

\- Changes, of course, spiral out from this well into the Fourth Age, near the end of which that strange immunity which had helped some of all the races finally begins to come to an end. No one understands why any more than they understood why it began. They have no way of knowing that this is when Morgoth first went back.

\- Morgoth, meanwhile, is still fuming in the Void. He doesn’t quite dare to try that little trick again, so instead he is slowly working on breaking through the Doors of Night, a work that will surely go more swiftly now that the small wispy remnants of Sauron have joined him. Eventually, they’ll break through, and then he’ll have his proper revenge.

\- He ignores the little voice that warns him that this, too, might be all according to someone else’s plan.


End file.
